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Green Mansions-Part16_W.H.Hudson(1841-1922)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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foliage further away. She waved her hand in imitation of its

swift, curving flight; then, dropping it, exclaimed: "Gone--oh,



little thing!"

"What was it?" I asked, for it might have been a bird, a



bird-like moth, or a bee.

"Did you not see? And you asked me to look into your eyes!"



"Ah, little squirrel Sakawinki, you remind me of that!" I said,

passing my arm round her waist and drawing her a little closer.



"Look into my eyes now and see if I am blind, and if there is

nothing in them except an image of Rima like a small, small fly."



She shook her head and laughed a little mockingly, but made no

effort to escape from my arm.



"Would you like me always to do what you wish, Rima--to follow

you in the woods when you say 'Come'--to chase you round the tree



to catch you, and lie down for you to throw leaves on me, and to

be glad when you are glad?"



"Oh, yes."

"Then let us make a compact. I shall do everything to please



you, and you must promise to do everything to please me."

"Tell me."



"Little things, Rima--none so hard as chasing you round a tree.

Only to have you stand or sit by me and talk will make me happy.



And to begin you must call me by my name--Abel."

"Is that your name? Oh, not your real name! Abel, Abel--what is



that? It says nothing. I have called you by so many

names--twenty, thirty--and no answer."



"Have you? But, dearest girl, every person has a name, one name

he is called by. Your name, for instance, is Rima, is it not?"



"Rima! only Rima--to you? In the morning, in the evening . .

. now in this place and in a little while where know I? . . .



in the night when you wake and it is dark, dark, and you see me

all the same. Only Rima--oh, how strange!"



"What else, sweet girl? Your grandfather Nuflo calls you Rima."

"Nuflo?" She spoke as if putting a question to herself. "Is



that an old man with two dogs that lives somewhere in the wood?"

And then, with sudden petulance: "And you ask me to talk to you!"



"Oh, Rima, what can I say to you? Listen--"

"No, no," she exclaimed, quickly turning and putting her fingers



on my mouth to stop my speech, while a sudden merry look shone in

her eves. "You shall listen when I speak, and do all I say. And



tell me what to do to please you with your eyes--let me look in

your eyes that are not blind."



She turned her face more towards me and with head a little thrown

back and inclined to one side, gazing now full into my eyes as I



had wished her to do. After a few moments she glanced away to

the distant trees. But I could see into those divine orbs, and



knew that she was not looking at any particular object. All the

ever-varying expressions--inquisitive, petulant, troubled, shy,



frolicsome had now vanished from the still face, and the look was

inward and full of a strange, exquisite light, as if some new



happiness or hope had touched her spirit.

Sinking my voice to a whisper, I said: "Tell me what you have



seen in my eyes, Rima?"

She murmured in reply something melodious and inarticulate, then



glanced at my face in a questioning way; but only for a moment,

then her sweet eyes were again veiled under those drooping



lashes.

"Listen, Rima," I said. "Was that a humming-bird we saw a little



while ago? You are like that, now dark, a shadow in the shadow,

seen for an instant, and then--gone, oh, little thing! And now



in the sunshinestanding still, how beautiful!--a thousand times

more beautiful than the humming-bird. Listen, Rima, you are like



all beautiful things in the wood--flower, and bird, and

butterfly, and green leaf, and frond, and little silky-haired



monkey high up in the trees. When I look at you I see them

all--all and more, a thousand times, for I see Rima herself. And



when I listen to Rima's voice, talking in a language I cannot

understand, I hear the wind whispering in the leaves, the



gurgling running water, the bee among the flowers, the organ-bird

singing far, far away in the shadows of the trees. I hear them



all, and more, for I hear Rima. Do you understand me now? Is it

I speaking to you--have I answered you--have I come to you?"



She glanced at me again, her lips trembling, her eyes now clouded

with some secret trouble. "Yes," she replied in a whisper, and



then: "No, it is not you," and after a moment, doubtfully: "Is it

you?"



But she did not wait to be answered: in a moment she was gone




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